Her Father's Daughter
by Mysstique
Summary: Emma is just like her mother. Everyone says so. But the little four year old wants nothing more than to be like her father, who happens to be Harry Potter.


Her Father's Daughter

AN: Another little one shot--pretty fluffy, if you ask me.

Emma watched sadly as her father picked her brother up and swung him around. True, it was the first time he'd caught the snitch, but honestly, it was just a game.

Just a game, that Emma wished more than anything that she could play.

She was deathly afraid of falling, and the one time she'd gotten on a broom by herself, she couldn't get the damn thing to move more than a few inches off the ground. It was almost as if the broom could sense that she really didn't want to move. She hadn't missed the disappointed look in her father's eyes that day though. He just smiled sadly and said to her, "That's ok, Em. Your mum couldn't fly to save her life either."

He was always comparing her to her mum—not that that was a bad thing! It was just……she wanted to be like her dad. Her mum was always the stuffy one, telling them when to go to bed, always insisting their grades weren't high enough, never having time to just play with Emma. Emma loved her mum, but she wished with all her heart she could have just one of her dad's good qualities.

Her brother, on the other hand, was always being compared to their dad. "That's Harry Potter's son right there," they'd say, "dead on replica, don't you think?" Or "Can't you remember the days when Potter would do the same thing? That boy's just like his dad, he is."

He played Quidditch, seeker of course (for who knew any other position existed?), and he told everyone he wanted to be an Auror (just like his dad) and he was always whisking his friends off on another adventure. Emma could go on and on. The number of times Emma had heard, "Just like his dad" muttered when Jake would get in trouble were higher than she could count.

Emma, on the other hand, hadn't heard that phrase uttered once about her. It was always, "Oh, yes, you are just like your mum, dear," they'd say. It was never with the same enthusiasm as it was with Jake, almost as if her mum had done her a disservice by giving her so many qualities. Like her love of reading, for example. Or her extremely smart logic, (which surpassed many grown-ups' logic, despite the fact that she was six). Her tendency to think before acting, or her way of informing people that, no Humped-backed schnorkles did NOT exist, even in the magical world.

She sighed sadly as she looked at her dad and brother playing Quidditch, and desperately wished she could join them. Maybe if she could play Quidditch, her dad would look at her and say, "Now, that's MY girl," claiming ownership of the genes that ran through her body. Maybe she would feel like his favorite for just one day.

"Now Jake," her father was saying, "don't forget to watch out for the other team—they're a bunch of cheaters!"

"Who're we playing, Slytherin?" Jake said back, laughing as he flew.

"Nope—Hufflepuff. Meanest Quidditch team ever seen at Hogwarts," their dad said with a perfectly straight face. "Don't want to mess with those 'Puffs," he said.

Jake cracked up laughing, and even Emma couldn't hold back a smile. From what she'd heard about Hogwarts from her parents, the Hufflepuff team was the team least likely to cheat.

After another twenty minutes or so, they landed and Harry ruffled his son's hair affectionately. Emma tried not to pout. Her father never mussed her hair like that.

They walked over to her, and she pretended to be absorbed in the book she had with her. Jake rushed ahead, yelling, "Biscuits! I'm taking over the biscuit tin! Mua ha ha ha!"

Their dad just chuckled as he came up to Emma. "And how's my little princess today, hmm?"

"Just fine dad. I'm reading about amin—animi—people who can turn into animals," she said, bypassing the word she couldn't pronounce. "It's really quite fascinating, actually."

He just smiled at her. "Just like your mum, Em. It's uncanny." She almost scowled at him. Was it her fault he didn't like to read, and she hadn't gotten _those_ genes? No.

"Well, don't spend too long out here princess. I'll try to save some biscuits for you before Jakie eats them all." He kneeled down and for a second, Emma thought he was going to ruffle her hair, but he just gave her a small kiss on the top of her head before grabbing his broom and heading inside, yelling "Oh no you don't you biscuit thief! Unhand those biscuits!"

She pouted, and went back to reading her book, slowing getting involved in it. She was completely submerged when she heard a high pitched voice yell, "Stop! Don't take Mr. Snuffles!", and lower pitched voices laugh and say "So that thing has a name, huh?"

Emma frowned and got up, grabbing her book as she went.

She followed the voices to the front yard (she'd been in the back), a few houses down where the Boot's lived. Despite this being a muggle neighborhood, it was occupied by almost all wizarding families. The young girl, she saw as she got closer, was Maggie Boot, and the two older boys looked like the Zabini twins. They were the bad eggs in the family—both their sisters were perfectly lovely people.

Emma rushed over to the girl and yelled at the boys. "You give that back to her, right now!"

They laughed, just dangled the stuffed….erm….thing out in front of her. Maggie just cried.

"Don't hurt Mr. Snuffles!" she cried.

Emma glared at the boys. "Yes, you boys **so** mature. Picking on a four year old, and not even doing a very good job at that." She said.

"What's that? Is something squeaking at us?" one of the boys said sarcastically.

The other answered, "Naw, I think it's just a mouse."

Emma continued. "Not only did you have to pick on someone smaller, because obviously you guys are big cowards, but you also forgot three very important things when you did so."

"What's that, shrimp?" one of the boys asked, in spite of himself.

Faster than he could move she grabbed the toy (which had almost been forgotten and was low enough for her to reach), handed it to Maggie, and hit each of the boys with her book. Hard. (well, hard for a six year old, but she was strong!)

Almost simultaneously they yelled, "OW!"

"You forgot that my book is heavy," she whacked them again, "you are slower than me", and again, hit them with the book, "and the most important thing--I'm a Potter, and no one messes with my friends." With that she hit them again, and they ran off, wanting to avoid death by huge book.

"Are you ok, Maggie?" she asked the girl. Maggie had stopped crying, and was staring up at Emma with wonder in her eyes.

"Thank you!" she squealed, and grabbed Emma in a tight hug. Emma, surprised, just stood there in shock. She finally got a hold of herself, and smiled at the girl.

"If they ever bother you again, you know where to find me right?"

The girl nodded, before turning to run inside.

Unbeknownst to Emma, Lavender Boot had seen most of the confrontation out her window, and turned to her good friend Susan, and said, "Now that one there is exactly like her father."

Emma walked back to the house, wondering if there were any biscuits left, and once again, planning how she was going to be just like her dad.

Hermione arrived home to find a mess—her son was covered in chocolate, running around the house yelling something about biscuits, her husband was chasing him around, also covered in chocolate, yelling something about thieves, and her daughter was there, watching them both with a longing glance in her eyes.

Hermione just rolled her eyes and muttered, "Honestly. Can't leave them alone for two seconds, can I?" Her grumpy tone was betrayed by the slight smile on her face. She grabbed her wand, and with a couple flicks of the wrist, both boys were clean and the kitchen had tidied up.

She walked over to her daughter and kissed her on the cheek. "How are you today, Emma?" Emma sighed, and looked over at her mother.

"Mum, am I really all like you? Don't I have any of Daddy in me?" she asked in a small voice.

Hermione looked at her daughter, and said, "Ok, what's wrong, sweetie?"

Emma explained everything she'd been thinking, and her worries that her daddy didn't love her like he did Jake. Hermione sighed, picked up her daughter, and sat her on her lap.

"Now, Emma, do you really think I'm to blame for that messy hair? That's all your father's," she said with a small smile. "And your beautiful green eyes? Those are your father's as well."

"I know, but don't I have any personabily traits the same?" Emma asked, her voice becoming desperate. Hermione had to hold back a smile at her daughter's pronunciation.

"Well, you are quite stubborn, although you probably get that from both of us. Erm….why don't you ask your father?" Hermione said, for she thought it would go in one ear and out the other if her daughter heard it from her.

Just then, Harry walked into the kitchen and smiled at his wife and daughter.

"Well, look who finally decided to come home from work?" he teased.

Hermione just rolled her eyes. "Yes, I came home to find my husband had regressed to the age of seven," she said sarcastically. "I'll start dinner, and Jake can help me. Why don't you and Emma go into the sitting room," she said pointedly at Harry. He caught the look, and looked over at Emma, worried.

"Em, what's wrong?" he asked once they'd sat down on the couch. Emma just looked at her father, wondering what to say. How did she tell her daddy that she knew that Jake was the favorite and she was trying hard to impress him?

"I just…daddy, do you love me?" she asked.

Harry looked surprised by the question. "Yes, princess, I love you very much. Why?"

"But not as much as Jake," she said, and then started talking fast, pouring it all out. "I know he's lots like you, cause he likes flying and causing trouble and doesn't like reading, and people always say he's like you, but it's not my fault that I don't have your genes in me, so why does it make a difference?" she started to cry as Harry tried to figure out what she'd said.

"Honey, I may love you for different reasons than I love Jake, but I love you two the same."

"But you never say that I'm like you! You always say I'm like mum! Everyone does!"

Harry just smiled at his daughter. "But honey, that's one of the reason's I love you. You are special, just like your mum. You're intelligent, very logical, creative, afraid of heights," he quirked a smile and looked into her eyes, "But you're more like me than you know."

"No I'm not! Nobody says I am!" she pouted, crossing her arms.

He grinned at her now. "Oh yes? Well, I'll have you know that you're doing it right now. That traditional Potter pout. You don't think that your mother ever pouts, do you? She was born knowing everything, never having to pout to get anything. And how about the way you get your brother back when he's picking on you? Your mother would just ignore him, pretend he didn't exist."

Emma frowned. "But that's not right—he deserved that snake in his bed. He did steal my book and color in it—and it was my favorite book too!"

Harry chuckled. "Yes, but that's not your mother in you. And the way you stand up for kids that can't stand up for themselves?"

Emma's pout lessened, but didn't disappear entirely. "Well, who else will take care of them?" she asked rhetorically. "You don't expect me to just let bullies pick on younger kids?" And then her face broke into understanding. "Oh, right, mum said you had a people-saving thing, didn't you?"

"Hmm…still do, to tell you the truth. But none of that matters—I love you because you're you. I don't want you to be another miniature copy of me running around. I love you the way you are, and I love Jacob the way he is, and if either of you two change on me," he said, getting a very serious look on his face, "then I'm afraid it's no more biscuits your entire life."

Emma giggled, and gave her father a big hug. "Thanks daddy."

The doorbell rang, and they both got up to see who it was. It was Mrs. Boot, bringing over a fresh baked cake.

"Hello Lavender. Thanks for stopping by," Harry said politely. "Want to come in?"

"Oh no, I've got dinner on the table, I just wanted to bring by this cake as my thanks to little Emma here. She helped out my Maggie today, and I just wanted to say thanks."

Harry smiled as Lavender told the whole story.

"And I just wanted to say, as a mother, I'm glad she turned out like you. I could have sworn it was little Harry Potter out there, standing up to Malfoy all over again." She chuckled. "She certainly is her father's daughter."

Emma didn't hear another word as her face burst with pride. _Finally_, she thought. _Finally_.


End file.
